With One Voice

King Comes Home, The

3. The City and The King

Lusey leaned dangerously far out of the carriagewindow to catch at her brother's cloak as he rodealongside. "Beomann, are those *Elves*?"

He glanced over at the circle of sleander, darkhaired folk sitting in the park they were passing,singing under the new stars, and smiled. "Theycertainly are. High Elves out of Lindon or Rivendellby the look of them."

"Oh!" Lusey subsided, overwhelmed.

Windows of colored glass glowed like jewels in thetall white buildings. Silver-blue globes shone likelittle moons in the trees lining the road illuminatingthe many different kinds of folk below: Dark HighElves and fair haired Wood Elves, Dwarves glitteringwith golden ornaments, and tall Rangers dressed likelords and ladies of Old but with the familiar grimclosed faces.

The Elves and Dwarves scarcely spared theBreelanders a glance but the Rangers invariably fixedthose pale, piercing eyes of theirs upon the caravanuntil it'd passed.

"What are they *staring* at?" Ishbel finallydemanded of her son.

"They don't mean to be rude, Mum," Beomannanswered, "it's just their way. You remember howStrider and Gil and the rest used to sit in theircorner and watch the Common Room."

"I didn't like that either." his mother grumbled.

"You have to watch every minute in the Wild."Beomann explained. "It becomes a habit. Like I said;they don't mean anything by it, they can't helpthemselves."

The palace appeared at the end of the avenue,golden light pouring from open doors to mingle withthe silvery illumination of the Elf lamps, shimmeringover the statues and fountains and colored pavementsof the great square.

Barliman swallowed. "Is that where we're going?"

Beomann shook his head. "No, I found a place you'lllike much better." ***

From the outside it looked just like the othergrand houses they'd passed. Tall and white with lacygalleries of fretted stone overhanging the street andwindows inlaid with designs in colored glass. But onceinside -

"Oh! this *is* nice." Ishbel beamed, her husbandsmiled and the rest of the Breelanders relaxedvisibly.

The hall was large and grand but it was a grandeurnot unlike their own best parlors, or the big housesof the Breeland gentry. The walls were panelled withsquares of oak, some carved with clusters of serratedleaves and acorns, and hung with landscapes of woodsand fields and a few portraits of people not unlikethemselves though more grandly dressed.

There was a long, heavy table in the center of theblack and white checked floor, and straight backedchairs and sideboards against the walls, all lit byhonest yellow lamplight with good green velvetcurtains shutting out the eerie magical city outside.

"I thought you'd like it." Beomann smiled. "LadyEllian says this house was especially decorated forvisitors from Cardolan in the days of the King." heturned to Mrs. Tunnelly. "And there's a wing withHobbit sized rooms facing the garden."

The house was at least as big as the Pony, if notbigger, and their numerous company just filled itcomfortably. The Hobbits' wing wasn't quite big enoughto accomodate all the Little Folk but Beomann said theoverflow'd only have to make do with Big Folkfurniture for that one night, as more Hobbit sizedfurniture would be found for them in the morning.

The house had clearly been designed to accomodateseveral seperate households with big common rooms fordining and the like on the ground floor and the restof the building divided into suites that included aparlor or two, several bedrooms, closets, storerooms,and a pantry. There was a big kitchen on the groundfloor and a half dozen smaller ones on the upperfloors and in the Hobbits' wing.

The house had a stableyard large enough to hold alltheir animals, carriages and wagons on one side. And agarden fenced by fancifully wrought ironwork on theother. A strip of grass behind sloped down to a widechannel of clear water, with white stone stepsdescending to a lamplit quay. The front galleriesoverlooked a broad avenue lined with other grandlooking houses, the great tower of the Palace risingabove their gilded domes.

"Now I see why you weren't bothered when half theBreeland decided to make the trip." Barliman told hisson as the bustle of settling in subsided.

Beomann shrugged. "I guessed Mum'd want to come,and of course if she did -"

"All the other wives would too." Barliman finished."Just as well they did. The eight of us would haverattled round this great place like pips in a driedapple." ****

Three strange ships materialized out of thegathering dusk gliding from the Gwathlo mouth tointercept the King's flotilla. The crew of the royalgalley and the Men of the King's guard tensed at thesight of them.

"Beat to quarters." the Shipmaster ordered. "Andsend a Man to the masthead to identify their colors."

"They are warships out of Mithlond." a low-pitchedvoice said gently. The Master started, turned to findthe King had somehow appeared at his elbow. "Sent asadditional escort, we are entering dangerous waters."

The Shipmaster looked uncertainly at the oncomingships. Sleek, low to the water, grey as mist. "Elves?"he asked uncertainly.

Elessar shook his head. "Dunedain. As the Elvesdwindled my people took on the task of defending thenorthern coasts from the black fleet out of Tol Fuin."

At that moment the oncoming ships unfurled theirsails and they belled out in the fresh evening breeze,grey as twilight and ensigned with the rising moon ofIsildur.

The three strange ships took up stations in anarrowhead formation ahead of the flotilla. The Kingstood watching them, breathing the smoke of sweetgalenas - a curious habit he shared with the WizardMithrandir and the Halflings - while everybody else ondeck stared covertly at him.

Even after three years the Gondorim had not quiteaccustomed themselves to having a King again. Or maybeit was *this* King with his elusive ways and habitualsilence, that disturbing air of sheathed power and hiscurious combination of reserve and familiarity thatthey could not get used to. He was intimidating - andfascinating. An enigma to be revered, even worshipped,but not understood.

Aragorn knew he was being watched of course,however discreet his people tried to be about it, butstayed on deck a few more moments anyway. Perhaps ifhe let them look their fill eventually the stareswould stop. Though after three years he was beginingto give up hope of it.

When he could stand it no longer he turned and wentinto the stern house, sensing without seeing orhearing the sudden relaxation of those he left ondeck. Sighed in frustration.

*What am I doing wrong?*

Instead of going back to the great cabin, where hiswife, daughter and attendants awaited him, he lingeredin the gallery, refilling his pipe. He felt the needfor a little privacy, to think.

He wasn't at all happy about the continuingdistance between himself and his Southern subjects.He'd expected awe, knowing the Gondorim's near worshipof the memory of their Kings, and a certain amount ofapprehension. But he'd also expected time andfamiliarity would ease both - only they hadn't. And hecouldn't think why. Certainly his people in the Northhad never been either awed or frightened of him.

He grimaced. His Dunedain were going to be veryunhappy with him, and he had no doubt they would lethim know it in no uncertain terms. It would beinteresting to see what his Gondorim made of themanners of the North.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.